


How Do You Solve a Problem Like Mikita?

by bogged



Category: Broadway RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, M/M, Meta, Snowed In, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogged/pseuds/bogged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twas the night before Christmas<br/>And all through the playhouse<br/>Every creature was stirring<br/>Because they were snowed in and ready to kill from the close proximity to each other</p><p>Or: why actors are terrible people to be stuck inside with, a practical study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Do You Solve a Problem Like Mikita?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts), [zlot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zlot/gifts), [chelsey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsey/gifts).



> If you are not one of the three ladies this was tailor-made for and you read this, I apologize in advance. But also I love you! You are very brave.
> 
> If you have no idea who Justin Mikita is, please leave me a comment letting me know what it feels like to have respectable interests and an adult's taste in personal amusements. I bet that's nice.

Backstage at the Al Hirschfeld theatre, a group of disgruntled actors sit trapped in a dressing room until the blizzard screaming through midtown Manhattan ends. Daniel Radcliffe, whose dressing room they are in, sits on the couch. Zac Efron sits next to him, and Christopher Hanke perches on the arm of the couch next to his co-star. Across the room, Jesse Tyler Ferguson and his boyfriend, Justin Mikita, sit with their legs splayed on the floor. They had come to see the show that night and wanted to say hello to Dan, not realizing they would be trapped forever.

Jesse thinks he will attempt to make the best out of a first world problem and asks if anyone would be interested in hearing some of the Christmas stories his mother told him as a child. Everyone agrees this would be very festive and so Jesse begins to recount them while Dan passes around hot cocoa. Jesse is an excellent story teller, and they are all very pleased and comfortable until he announces that he is out of stories.

Hanke peers out the window.

“If anything, the snow has only gotten angrier.”

“Well, I’m out of stories,” Jesse shrugs.

“Let me tell one!” Dan demands.

“Nooo, we’re tired of stories,” Justin whines. Jesse gives him a look.

“You’d better let him,” Hanke says in a conspiratorial whisper. “Or else he’ll never let it go.”

“Right,” Dan starts, pretending he didn’t hear that. “It’s about us, or else it wouldn’t be interesting.” He leans forward in his chair, his cocoa sloshing perilously. Zac reaches over Dan’s body and tips the mug upright, the action so seamlessly natural that neither Dan nor Zac himself seem to have noticed it happened. “So, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re in a car going to a cabin deep in the snowy woods. I’m driving and—“

“No,” Zac interrupts. “You are not driving.” He looks around at everyone else in the room, shaking his head, slightly pale from a repressed-until-now memory. “He’s not driving.”

“Fine, he’s not driving. Let’s hear the story already, if we don’t have a choice in the matter,” says John Larroquette, who is also there.

Dan squints, pulling his mouth into a firm line.

“So,” he pauses to make sure everyone is listening. “We are in a car on our way to a cabin in the snow, and I’m _not_ driving. I’m sitting in the back seat, asking Zac to Google things for me…”

++—

“Wait!” Jesse says. “Before we fade into the story, can we skip to the part where we’re already in the cabin?”

“You lot are mean,” Dan sighs. “But, fine. SO—we are in the cabin deep in the snowy woods, and I’m not asking Zac to Google things for me anymore. We are having a pajama party—“

“Why—“Justin Mikita starts, but Dan cuts him off.

“Oh fuck off, like you don’t love pajama parties. Look at you!”

Jesse, sitting at Justin’s side, doesn’t say anything, but his beard smiles behind his mug.

“May I continue?” Dan asks. Everyone nods, though they don’t appear happy about it.

“We are having a pajama party, and Justin Mikita is voted worst dressed (“What!?”), when suddenly the phone begins to ring…”

+++

“Hellooooo?” Justin Mikita, Worst Dressed 2011, answers the phone in his usual annoying manner. The only sound on the other end is heavy breathing and a slight moan.

“It’s that guy who keeps calling and not saying anything!” Justin shouts over his shoulder to the rest of the better dressed pajama partiers.

 _I’m going to kill you_ , says the man on the phone.

“Okay,” says Justin, hanging up. Honestly, he’s been expecting this.

“Justin, you are really bringing down our party vibe,” Dan says, dancing like a human to the cool music he picked out by bands no one has heard of since he’s such a tastemaker.  “I think you should go upstairs.”

“Yeah, go upstairs!” says everyone. Hanke is making Dan a s’more, something he said he’d do once like six months ago but then never did. Now that his run in _How to Succed_ is almost over and he’s about to leave the country, he will never know whether or not he would like a s’more and could recommend it to his English friends, because it’s not like they won’t _ask_ —

+++

“Jesus Christ,” Hanke rolls his eyes.

“It’s a problem,” Dan states. “ANYWAY. So Justin goes upstairs because he’s drunk and his hair looks bad, and then…”

+++

Justin, his hair too distractingly awful for anyone else to hold a conversation, flops down on the bed. He closes his eyes, probably trying to have a thought, when he hears an odd sound from his closet. He immediately gets up and goes toward the sound, due to being dumb.  

As soon as Justin opens the closet, the man from the phone jumps out and stabs him to death with a unicorn ornament, but the sound of John and Dan and Hanke singing in perfect harmony drowns out the attack.

+++

 “Dan, I’m sorry. I have to stop you,” Zac interrupts, putting a hand on Dan’s elbow. “You are literally reading from the Wikipedia page for the movie ‘Black Christmas’ and replacing the names with ours. I can see it open on your phone.”

Dan clears his throat and attempts to surreptitiously put his phone in his pocket without looking at it, but he misses and it falls onto the floor. The plastic backing pops off and slides toward the wall, where everyone stares at it, as though waiting for it to remove itself from the room in shame, until Dan speaks up:

“And then Zac Efron, who was previously spared for no apparent reason, died due to ink poisoning from his shitty hand tattoo. Also the killer was Zachary Quinto. Justin, you know what you did. The end. Let me know if you’d like to hear another—”

“NO!” says everyone, everywhere.

 


End file.
